


fool yourself (but we can't pretend)

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Boys Kissing, Drunk Texting, Height Differences, M/M, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Where We Are Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't stop staring at the picture. Niall should, by all rights, look ridiculous in it. He should look swamped by the hoodie, like a kid playing dress up in someone else's clothes. But he doesn't. Christ, he really doesn't look ridiculous at all. He does look small though, Bressie realises, with the sleeves bunched around his thin wrists like before. He looks small and he looks gorgeous. </p><p>Or Bressie tries his hardest not to think about Niall while he jerks off and fails miserably. And feelings. And pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fool yourself (but we can't pretend)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Niall-centric ficathon, with these prompts: **Niall/Bressie! Clothes sharing!** and **Niall/Bressie, Bressie cancels Iron Man last minute to go see Niall perform at Croke Park ;_____;** (well, it's close enough I think!)
> 
> A huge, huge thanks to [Jarka](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/profile) for the beta, she is the bestest <3333

Bressie's fucking knackered. He's so bone deep tired that he can't even be arsed to make dinner, screw his training schedule. He's standing in his kitchen, rummaging through a drawer that's overflowing with the takeout menus that have been shoved through his letterbox over the past five years, trying to decide if he wants Chinese or Indian, when his doorbell rings.

He seriously considers just ignoring it, staring mournfully at Dragon City's obnoxiously lime green menu with its tempting offers of sweet and sour pork, but when his doorbell goes again, he drops the menu onto the counter and heads for the front door, pulling it open and blinking blankly at his visitor.

Niall grins back at him and for a second, Bressie's looking at seventeen year old Niall, appearing on this very doorstep for the first time, guitar in hand and the same smile locked firmly in place as he asked Bressie to help him out with his broken guitar strings. But he blinks, the image fading slowly and Bressie shakes his head because this Niall is obviously older, his hair more styled and he's not quite so baby-faced. His grin is less crooked but no less bright, and okay, he's a bit taller.

But more than anything, Bressie registers how tired Niall looks. How his shirt is hanging off his shoulders looser than he normally wears them, and his skin, already pale thanks to those blessed Irish genes of his, looks drawn.

"Hey mate," he says finally, when he realises that he's just been staring at Niall for longer than is probably polite. "When did you get back then?"

"Couple of days ago," is the answer, and Christ he _sounds_ tired too. "Haven't seen you in forever, mate. You busy?"

"Course not," Bressie says and reaches out to clasp Niall's shoulder, dragging him in for a hug. "Never too busy for you, Chief."

He hears Niall's muffled laugh as he kicks the door closed behind him and then he's pulling Niall into the kitchen, all thoughts of takeaway forgotten as he pushes Niall gently into a chair and opens his fridge. He pulls out an assortment of vegetables and sets a saucepan to boil, throwing pasta in before he starts chopping.

"How long are you back this time then?" he teases gently, shoving everything into another pan before he turns around, crossing his ankles as he leans back and rests his hands on the counter.

"Two weeks," Niall says, and he's smiling but it's not quite right somehow. "Big tour coming up. Croke Park, mate."

"It's gonna be so fucking amazing, mate," Bressie tells him, half-jealous but mostly just proud of this kid in front of him. God. Croke Park. It's the stuff their dreams are made of.

"Sure you can't make it then?" Niall asks him, and it's not the first time. Bressie remembers when Niall texted him the Croke Park dates, begging him to come along with the others and he'd gotten that sinking feeling when he realised the dates clashed with his ironman.

"You have no idea how much I wish I could," Bressie says honestly. He gives Niall a sad smile, aware that Niall's almost as upset as he is about missing it, because it's Croke Park and there are too few people in the world who can understand what that means to Niall. Bressie's one of them.

Niall just gives him that sad little smile and shrugs. "Just want to sleep through the next two weeks if I'm being honest."

"So why aren't you?" Bressie asks. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you mate, you know that. But if I'm being honest, you look dead on your feet."

"Got plenty of time to sleep," Niall brushes him off, and the thing is, Bressie knows what he's not saying. _Plenty of time to sleep after One Direction. Plenty of time to sleep when I'm a washed up popstar and no-one remembers my name_. Bressie knows that's not true of course, because who wouldn't remember Niall? Who wouldn't want him around forever? But Niall never lets him say it, or Eoghan or Laura or anyone else for that matter, because Niall reckons he's seen it happen to too many popstars to be swayed from his opinion on where his career will end up and Bressie's given up trying. "So what've you been up to?"

"While you've been touring the world?" Bressie says wryly. It makes Niall grin and that's good enough for him. "Training for these Ironman races and I've been in the studio a bit, putting down some new stuff. Might release another album next year, if everything goes well."

"That's brilliant, Brez," Niall says and Bressie has to take a second to turn around and stir the vegetables because there's always something so sincere about Niall that draws people to him, Bressie included, and he never quite knows how to react to Niall's solemn, unshakable belief in him. "You seen the rest of the gang then?"

It doesn't take him long to catch Niall up on everything everyone's been doing, just enough time to serve dinner in fact. Niall catches Bressie watching him eat and he gets an eye roll before Niall shovels another mouthful of pasta into his grinning mouth, so Bressie lets it slide this time.

Niall offers to wash up, a suggestion that Bressie heroically ignores as he all but herds Niall into the living room and waits for him to sit down before he hands over the remote and heads back into the kitchen to shove everything into the sink because quite frankly the dishes can wait. He settles himself down next to Niall, who's found a re-run of A League of Their Own on telly with Rory McIlroy and they watch it in companionable silence, interspersed with the odd laugh.

Until Bressie realises that Niall's got his arms wrapped around his middle, his legs drawn up so that his chin is resting on his knees.

"Cold?" he asks softly. He gets a sheepish smile that he assumes is a yes and stands up, stretching his whole body out for a second before he moves towards his bedroom. He pulls the first hoodie he finds in his wardrobe, it's red, zipped, and going to be way, way too big on Niall's skinny frame but it's all he's got.

He's right, of course. When Niall tugs it on, it's too long in the sleeve and bunches at the wrists, and it falls halfway down his thighs, but Niall's grinning like he's just been given the greatest present ever. Swamped in Bressie's jumper, he settles back down and stretches out on the sofa, head on the armrest, tucking his toes under Bressie's thighs with an unrepentant smile. Bressie figures he'll let it go, just this once, since he's certain Niall's going to fall asleep any second on Bressie's sofa like he's done a thousand times before and will certainly do again.

Like clockwork, the next time Bressie glances over, Niall's got his eyes closed, head resting on one of his hands, lips parted and he's breathing evenly. Bressie wonders quite how he got so fucking fond of this little popstar that he lets him crash over without a word, when Eoghan moans all the time about being kicked out of his flat, but Bressie thinks it's different with Niall. That it's different with his young popstar mate who constantly looks tired and in need of looking after, even if he never lets any of them actually look after him. As far as he can tell, even Bobby doesn't fuss over him, although Bobby's never really been one to fuss anyway.

And maybe he sometimes has to remind himself that Niall's a grown lad, an adult now with more money than everyone else he knows combined, that Niall's got a sensible head on his shoulders and doesn't need Bressie fussing around him like a fucking mother hen.

But when he gets up and drapes a blanket over Niall, and Niall curls up, his fist grabbing the blanket and pulling it up under his chin and his face softens, Bressie thinks it would take superhuman strength not to lean down and brush his lips over Niall's forehead. And god knows, he's not superhuman. Not even close.

"Night, Niall," he murmurs as he straightens and covers a yawn. "See you in the morning, mate."

*

He's up early for training, and Niall's still fast asleep on the sofa, blanket haphazardly covering his body and one leg. Bressie straightens it out for him before he leaves a note, just in case Niall's disappeared before he gets back, telling him to help himself to breakfast and it was great to see him. He bites down on his bottom lip for a second before he adds that he's playing down the road at a private gig tonight if Niall's free and wants to pop along.

Bressie leaves the note on the table in front of Niall, dropping Niall's phone on top so he'll definitely see it, before he does a few loose stretches and heads out of the door, flicking on his iPod as he starts a slow jog through the streets of London, taking his usual route that will bring him back home in 57 minutes, give or take.

Fifty four minutes later, he steps inside, breathing heavily and sweating, and he's a bit disappointed that Niall's not fast asleep on his sofa still, but he understands. The note's gone; not that Bressie has any idea what that means.

He strips off and steps into the shower, tipping his head back as warm water sluices over him. He washes the sweat and London grime away, his thoughts already on the gig tonight.

*

Niall turns up sometime during his first set, when he's sat with his acoustic guitar and the small, intimate crowd is singing along with him. He glances to the side of the stage and finds Niall waving and grinning, leaning against the wall, a snapback in his hand. Bressie finds himself smiling as he turns back to the audience and he feels a bit lighter, knowing Niall's turned up to see him. He sings a bit louder, his voice a bit stronger and his gaze keeps wandering over to the side of the stage. A few times he catches Niall chatting to one of the backstage hands, and he seems to have a different drink in his hand each time he looks over. He sees him signing an autograph twice and Bressie frowns a little, annoyed on Niall's behalf that he can't even enjoy a quiet gig without being harassed. Niall, of course, doesn't look annoyed at all, and that just frustrates Bressie even more.

But what he notices most of all is how often Niall's singing along with him, singing Bressie's lyrics back to him. He hadn't even realised Niall had listened to any of his songs, and here he is, singing along like he's Bressie's biggest fan.

He takes his time saying thank you at the end of the gig, hand raised in acknowledgement as the audience cheers and he can't help the flush on his cheeks as he walks offstage, heading straight for Niall. He hands his guitar to a smiling young man who promises to take it straight back to his dressing room and then he's wrapping his arms around Niall who's on his tiptoes so he can comfortably get his arms around Bressie's neck. Bressie's half-tempted to pull him up off his feet, knowing that it'd make Niall laugh but he's aware of the cameras around Niall in a way that he normally doesn't care about, and he's not going to be responsible for embarrassing Niall. If it's even possible to embarrass Niall, he thinks wryly. So he settles for a hug that perhaps lingers a second too long, but when he pulls back, Niall just shoves his snapback on and squeezes Bressie's bicep gently.

"That was amazing, bro," Niall says, and he sounds a little starstruck, which Bressie thinks is both hilarious and absurd. "Let's go to the pub, yeah? I'll buy you a pint."

"Sounds perfect," Bressie says. He starts guiding Niall towards his dressing room, his palm flat and his fingers splayed wide across the small of Niall's back, not letting his hand drop as they pass people in the corridors and they both smile and say hello but Bressie keeps enough pressure on Niall to keep him moving, hoping that his presence is enough to dissuade anyone else from asking Niall for an autograph or photo while he's on a bloody break.

Bressie has a quick word with his manager and leaves his guitars to be delivered back to the studio for his recording session in the morning before he lets Niall drag him out the back, a burly security guy hustling them into a car that heads for Niall's local. Bressie never minds going there because it's one of the few places Niall can go and not get hassled, and it's also only a 20 minute walk back to his after anyway.

"You enjoy yourself then, Chief?" Bressie asks. His gaze drops to where Niall's got his snapback back in his hands, turning it around and around like a vaguely nervous habit. It's a new one, Bressie thinks, a new thing to catalogue about Niall. Every time he sees Niall, there's a pretty long gap because of their schedules, and there's always something new to learn about him.

"You were so good, Head," Niall murmurs, his hands stilling as he turns towards Bressie. His cheeks are a little flushed and his eyes bright. "Must be amazing to play for a small audience and have them listen to every single note you're singing."

Bressie just about resists the urge to reach out and ruffle Niall's hair, but it's a close call. "Stop bragging, it's so unattractive in a popstar," Bressie teases him, pleased when Niall ducks his head and laughs. "Just because you have millions of screaming fans wherever you go."

Niall gives him a playful shove. "You're just jealous," Niall teases right back and Bressie laughs.

"Not me," he says slowly. He's not Niall, his temper runs hotter and he needs his space, needs to not feel closed in.

The car pulls up just then and Bressie waits for Niall to dart inside before he follows at a slower pace. Niall's already chatting to the barman who’s pulling their pints, and Bressie heads for a table at the back.

"To a great fucking gig," Niall says as he slides into a chair and lifts his pint. Bressie lifts his in response and feels immediately better as the bitter taste of beer slides down his throat.

"You know," Bressie starts as he places his pint down, watching as Niall's tongue flicks out to catch some beer froth on his lips. "I saw you singing along to some of the songs. I didn't know you knew any of them."

Niall looks a bit confused before his hand reaches out to cover Bressie's where it rests on the table by his pint. "Mate, are you kidding?" he asks, and there's genuine bewilderment in his voice. "I've been listening to your stuff since before we met. You're proper famous back home, you wanker."

Bressie laughs at that, even if the tips of his ears feel red hot. He's not sure whether he's embarrassed that Niall, one fifth of the biggest band in the world, thinks Bressie's famous, or embarrassed because it's a reminder of quite how much older he is than this mere child in front of him.

"Go on with you," he manages to say, but he's very aware that his throat is a bit closed up and his voice sounds thick and gruff.

Niall, however, seems delighted by this. "Jesus, Brez. Why do you think I turned up on your doorstep with some crap about my guitar needing restringing? I've got all your albums, mate. I think they're amazing."

"Oh you charmer you," Bressie says with a smile, but he slides his hand out from where Niall's idly stroking a lazy finger over his knuckles and grabs his pint for a much needed gulp. "Do you have Rage and Romance then?"

When Niall's cheeks flush a very pretty pink, Bressie laughs softly.

"Someone tweeted me about it the day it got released," Niall says, almost defensively but his knee nudges carefully against Bressie's all the same. "Something about a thank you in the sleeve notes."

"Well, it's true," Bressie says with a shrug. He's not embarrassed, otherwise he wouldn't have added it in there in the first place. "Just thought those five people buying my album should know."

"Oh shut up, it went to number one," Niall points out. He drains his drink and catches the bartender’s eye, gesturing for another round.

"Yeah, in Ireland," Bressie points out because he's always been realistic about his appeal.

"Fuck off," Niall says somewhat pleasantly. If there's one thing that puts Niall in a bad mood, it's any vaguely perceived slight about home. "I'd rather be number one in Ireland than anywhere else in the world."

"I'll be sure to let all your adoring fans in the US and Australia and Asia and wherever the fuck else that you're number one know that," Bressie says blandly. He's saved from the retort that he can see on Niall's lips by the arrival of their drinks, distracting Niall by lifting his pint immediately. "To Ireland, the most beautiful place on earth."

Niall lifts his glass in salute. "So why the fuck are we living in London then?"

Bressie just grins as he takes a sip and settles back in his chair to watch Niall grumble about London and extol the virtues of Ireland, and particularly Mullingar. God, he's fond of this boy.

*

Bressie finds Niall back on his doorstep two days later, a crate of beers by his feet that Bressie easily hauls up on his shoulder to carry to his kitchen. It becomes a regular-ish thing, in that Niall turns up every other day with beer or food or a guitar. It's incredibly relaxing, Bressie thinks on one such night as Niall strums a few chords that sound familiar, until he realises it's one of his own songs. He thinks maybe Niall thinks so too, since he's been looking less tired recently and there's definitely more of him now, even if he is still a scrawny little thing.

And on the days he doesn't swing by, he gets texts at odd hours of the day, mostly not saying much but Bressie appreciates them all the same. He wonders briefly if it's the lack of structure, the lack of constantly being surrounded by people that makes Niall reach out, a need to connect to someone without being trapped by it, but he doesn't know what to do with that thought so he tries his best not to think about it too much.

When Niall hasn't popped round for three days, and Bressie knows he's back on tour soon, he snaps a picture of his golf clubs, propped against his bedroom wall and sends it over to Niall with a question mark.

Niall's response is immediate.

**Yeah mate ! Free tomorrow if you are ??**

Bressie books them in for a round and sends Niall a text confirming their tee-off time.

In the morning, Bressie goes for his run, pushing himself harder because he's aiming to do the route in less than 50 minutes one day. He makes it in 53 minutes, and even a hot shower can't take away the sting of feeling like he's standing still and making no bloody progress on his timings. Frustration has always been a hard emotion for him to shrug off, but he dresses in his finest golfing attire, hefts his golf clubs onto his shoulder, grabs his golf shoes and heads out, hoping the feeling wears off before he sees Niall.

Arriving at the course, Bressie signs in and wanders into the tee-off area where Niall's already waiting, chatting to a couple of guys. His eyes light up as he catches sight of Bressie, which improves Bressie's mood a little, and even more so when Niall breaks away from his conversation and bounds up to him, one arm reaching up to drag him in for a welcome hug.

"Ready then, Brez?" Niall asks as they finally set off for the first hole. "Ready for me to kick your arse?"

"In your dreams, Horan," Bressie answers. "Be good for your ego to realise you'll always be the apprentice to the master, mate."

Niall laughs in delight as he sets his bag down and selects a club. "We'll see, mate. We'll see."

Bressie folds his arms, legs slightly apart as he watches Niall bend down to slide his tee into the green and drop his ball on top. Niall turns to wink at him because he's a cocky little bastard, Bressie thinks fondly, before Niall settles himself into a balanced stance, legs wide apart, shoulders squared as he takes a few practice swings before stepping forward and lining his club up with the ball. He looks up twice before he lifts the club, his shoulders loose as his shirt clings to his lithe frame and Bressie can see the arch of his back, see the twist on his belly before he swings, connecting with the ball and letting out a whoop when the ball lands neatly on the green.

Except Bressie hasn't seen where it's landed because he's staring at Niall. It's not until Niall turns towards him that he even realises, huffing out an embarrassed laugh as he quickly turns and selects his own club.

"Bet you can't beat that, Head," Niall goads happily. "That was a sweet fucking shot, mate."

Bressie doesn't know, since he was staring at Niall, entranced by the movement of his small body, but he lines up his ball and takes a few practice swings, perhaps using a bit more force than necessary because his frustration levels have just gone up a notch. Staring at his mates is a big fucking no-no, he tells himself because apparently he needs the reminder, and he takes one more swing before he lines up and swings, hearing the crack of the ball as it rises into the air.

Niall watches it sail onto the green, past his own shot before he turns back towards Bressie with a raised eyebrow. "Okay there, Chief? Got some issues you're working out there then?"

Bressie gives him a gentle push as he slides his club back into his bag and hauls it onto his shoulder. "Yeah, I've got this annoying little pest of a mate who won't stop banging on about his subpar golfing skills." Niall lets out a little squawk of protest even as he picks up his own bag. "Sure you don't need some help with that heavy bag there?"

Niall gives his shoulders a once over, and Bressie tries not to shiver in response. Jesus, he needs a cold shower or to get laid or something because Niall Horan giving him an innocent fucking look shouldn't make him feel so bloody warm all over.

"You're broad enough to carry both bags and me, probably," Niall says, his eyes bright but he's not smiling. He takes a step towards Bressie and his breath catches for a second before Niall drops his bag onto Bressie's free shoulder, taking him by surprise. "You might as well put those nice muscles of yours to good use, Head. I'm not used to carrying my bags anymore anyway, since I'm a big fucking popstar you know."

"Respect your elders, young pup," Bressie says. He's not sure if he's reminding Niall or himself.

He follows Niall's laughter all the way down the fairway.

*

He doesn't notice he's missing a certain hoodie until Niall's been in South America for a few days. It's not that he minds, but he shoots Niall a text asking if he's happened to see it, and it's got nothing to do with the fact that he hasn't heard from Niall since he left. He's just curious, that's all.

Nothing comes through for a few hours, just a text from Laura and a call from his mum. When his phone flashes with a message, he grabs it, finding a picture of Niall staring back at him. He's wearing his hoodie, of course, with a caption that says _Sorry mate, I kidnapped it ! haha ! hope you don't mind !_

He can't stop staring at the picture. Niall should, by all rights, look ridiculous in it. He should look swamped by the hoodie, like a kid playing dress up in someone else's clothes. But he _doesn't_. Christ, he really doesn't look ridiculous at all. He does look small though, Bressie realises, with the sleeves bunched around his thin wrists like before. He looks small and he looks gorgeous. Christ, in Bressie's hoodie, Niall looks like he _belongs_ to him.

With slightly trembling hands, he sends a short text back telling Niall that it's okay, he'll grab a different one and he was just curious about where it was. Then he drops his phone onto the table and puts his head in his hands. Fuck. Christ. _Fuck_.

He's not sure how long he stays there, but he can't get the image out of his head. Fuck, he's half-hard just thinking about it and that's ... well, he can't. He just _can't_.

Figuring a cold shower will sort him out, he strips off and steps inside, well-used to the freezing temperatures from training. But he's still hard. He's still trying not to think about Niall in his hoodie, looking so bloody snuggly in a hoodie that probably still smells like him. When ten minutes pass under the cold water and he's still bloody hard, he finally curls his fingers around his dick, sighing at how good it feels and his hand moves slowly as he jerks himself off.

He very definitely does not think about Niall. He can't.

He doesn't think about Niall while he's stroking himself harder and harder, eyes closed as he rests his head against his forearm and lets the cold water sluice over his hot skin. He doesn't think about Niall when he chases his orgasm and finally comes, head tipped back, neck arched as his orgasm washes over him until he feels weak and drained. He doesn't think about Niall as he stays where he is for another five minutes, until he turns the water off and wraps a towel around his waist while he shivers. He doesn't think about Niall when he dries himself off and crawls into bed.

He does think about Niall when he reaches for his phone and looks at the picture of Niall in his hoodie again, before he closes his eyes and wonders what the fuck he's doing.

*

He wakes up hard, which isn't exactly unusual. Instead of ignoring it and waiting for his dick to go down though, Bressie finds himself with his hand on his dick, jerking off like a fucking teenager with the covers kicked down and tangled around his feet. His orgasm hits harder and faster than the night before, until he's shaking and breathless, his stomach sticky with quickly drying come, and he has to drag himself out of bed for a shower to clean up before he heads out for his run.

He takes a whole minute off his route.

By the evening, he's had his hand on his dick twice more, and Christ, he's not a kid anymore. Three wanks in a day isn't exactly normal for him these days, but he's just jacked off on his sofa, because a fucking advert for Midnight Memories came on during Coronation Street and he'd gotten hard as a bloody rock.

His right hand still sticky with come, he grabs his phone with his left hand and types a slow, halting text out to Eoghan.

**Let's get fucking trashed mate.**

God bless him, Eoghan texts back within two minutes with a picture of him with his thumbs up. Wanker.

*

After too many pints to count, Bressie's laughing at Eoghan's terrible jokes, he feels much happier, and he's only pulled up Niall's picture to squint at three times. He's always been a pretty good drunk though, and he's only stumbled once so far on the way to the bar.

They share a taxi home, with Eoghan climbing out first after Bressie's given him a hug that surprises both of them before Eoghan pats him on the shoulder awkwardly. "See you later, big man," he slurs before disappearing out of the door and Bressie's left alone for the five minute journey back to his place.

He's got his phone in his hand already and scrolls through to Niall's name.

**Can't believe you stole my hoodie, it's way too big on you**

It's not his best, but he's pretty pleased that it's spelled correctly, all things considered.

He's just managed to unlock his door and step inside when his phone starts ringing and Niall's face flashes up on his screen.

"Niall!" Bressie cheers as he answers. "Niall, my favourite man from Mullingar. How are ya?"

He hears Niall's laugh, tinny and distant-sounding. "Christ Brez, you're wankered aren't ya?"

Bressie just about avoids tripping over a running magazine he left on the floor earlier. "It's all Eoghan's fault," Bressie tells him conspiratorially in a loud whisper. "Terrible influence on a young, upstanding man from Ireland such as myself, I swear."

"Sure," Niall says, still laughing. "I thought you were actually mad about the hoodie, Head. Should have known you'd been on the beers instead."

"Looks better on you anyway," Bressie says honestly as he shifts the phone so he can strip off his shirt. "When are you coming back anyway?"

There's a moment's pause but Bressie barely notices as his jeans fall to the floor and he picks them up to neatly hang up because he might be plastered but he's not a fucking animal.

"Niall?" he prompts as he heads to the kitchen to grab a glass of water because these days his hangovers hurt like a bitch. Growing up is such a fucking lame idea. "You still there?"

"Two more weeks then almost a fortnight off before we play Croke Park," Niall says, but he sounds even quieter. "I'll be back in two weeks."

Bressie turns off the light in his bedroom and slides into bed. "That's too long," he mumbles. Two weeks feels like forever, but maybe that's the alcohol talking. Fucking Eoghan. God, he loves that bastard.

There's absolute silence on the phone and Bressie almost falls asleep before he hears Niall laugh softly down the phone. "Goodnight, Bressie. I'll text you, yeah?"

"Yeah okay Niall," Bressie murmurs, half asleep with the phone wedged between his ear and the pillow. "Goodnight, popstar."

He rolls over and falls fast asleep, water completely forgotten.

*

Bressie wakes up with a shooting pain in his head and he rolls over, groping around for the stale glass of water that he drinks greedily before he flops back against his mattress. A groan escapes his lips as he remembers quite how many pints he sank, but it's not until he's been staring up at his ceiling for a few minutes that he remembers speaking to Niall when he got in last night.

Oh fucking Christ.

He remembers the dead silence on the phone when he'd said two weeks was too long.

Christ it's all awful. Why had Niall gone silent instead of just laughing at him? Eoghan would have laughed at him. Laura would have laughed at him. Every single person Bressie knows would have laughed at him for being a soppy drunken wanker, but Niall hadn't. Niall, who laughs at _everything_.

His phone is just out of reach and it's a bit of a hungover-induced struggle to reach for it, but when he does he's got four texts, three of them from Eoghan moaning about how hungover he is, and one from Niall.

It's a picture of him winking. Fucking _winking_ and grinning and looking like he knows Bressie's deepest, darkest secret.

Like he knows he _is_ Bressie's deepest, darkest secret.

Bressie's hand slides helplessly down over his belly, dipping lower to wrap around his hard dick as he stares at the picture. He's perfectly aware that he's going to hell but it doesn't stop him from fisting his cock, or biting down on his bottom lip as he imagines that it's Niall's hand on his dick. Niall's smaller, more delicate hand jerking him off. His legs shift slightly further apart as he pants, already breathless and aching all over.

He comes embarrassingly quickly and he throws his phone down, squeezing his eyes shut as he realises that he's quite possibly well and truly fucked.

Absolutely fucked.

*

The pictures don't stop. They come through at an alarming frequency. They're pretty tame, at least to begin with. Pictures of Niall pulling various faces - pouting when he's just woken up, looking sleep-soft and rumpled, grinning as he poses with his lunch and pretending to bite his fingernails as he's about to go on stage.

Bressie's wanked over each and every one of them.

They get more adventurous though. Sometimes Niall's shirtless, and it's just a glimpse of skin but it's enough to have Bressie shoving his hands down his shorts because he apparently has no self-control and a millimetre of Niall's skin on his iPhone screen is enough to get him hard to the point that he's jerking off in the kitchen or in his hallway or sometimes halfway through dinner (it's happened twice and Bressie hates himself).

It's when Niall sends a picture of himself in his hotel bed with a caption saying _goodnight, sweet dreams_ and he's wearing Bressie's hoodie, looking snuggly, staring right down the camera as if he knows what these pictures are doing to Bressie, that sends Bressie right over the edge. It's that picture that has Bressie coming so hard that he almost passes out, his dick stripped almost raw with how hard he'd jerked off to it, a hoarse cry on his lips.

He doesn't have a clue how he's going to even look Niall in the face when he comes back home in less than a week.

When Eoghan texts him, apparently finally recovered enough from their last night out to try it again, Bressie jumps on the chance to distract himself from Niall and how fucking pretty the lad is and how he's thought far too much about how Niall's skin might taste and whether Niall likes boys at all. Not that it matters, he reminds himself firmly, because Niall is off-limits, and not just because he's a whole 13 years younger. Christ, it makes Bressie feel old just thinking about it.

Which is exactly why he needs to get so fucking wasted that he can't fantasise about kissing Niall or sucking on his neck a little or pushing him up against a wall and feeling Niall's legs wrap around his waist, because it's not going to happen. It can't happen. And he's going to stop touching his dick every time Niall sends him a fucking picture.

He sends Eoghan a text telling him to be at the pub in twenty minutes before he grabs his keys and wallet to head out, and refuses to think about small popstars with stupid dyed blonde hair and a grin big enough to light Croke Park all by itself.

The walk calms him and cools his heated skin until he almost feels normal again as he pushes the door open and steps into the bar.

"Alright big fella?" Eoghan turns to greet him, drink in hand. He's grinning and looking far too cheerful for Bressie's mood right now, so he just grunts and grabs the pint next to the one Eoghan's holding and downs half of it in one. "Whoa, what's up with you then?"

"Bad week," Bressie mumbles. "Fuckin' awful week, actually."

Eoghan signals the bartender for another round and Bressie lifts his pint again to toast with Eoghan. "Well cheer up, you miserable fucker," Eoghan says bluntly before he leads Bressie to a table around the back.

He tries, he honestly does, but he keeps sneaking glances at his phone and when no new texts come through from Niall, he scrolls through Niall's pictures and maybe has to press the heel of his hand down hard against his dick under the table, trying desperately to be discreet.

Sometime after their fifth pint, when Eoghan's halfway through telling him about some girl on the tube who he's almost certain was flirting with him between Euston and Charing Cross but she had a Niall bracelet on so there's a possibility that a) she was a lot younger than she looked and/or b) she might try and date him to get to Niall and then turn bunny-boiler crazy on all of them, and he's not sure he can do that to Niall, even if she did have great legs, Eoghan grabs Bressie's phone off him where he'd been staring at the last picture Niall sent him.

He's not sure he's ever been more embarrassed in his fucking life as Eoghan blinks blankly at the screen before glancing up at him. "Mate? What the fuck is this?"

"S'Niall," Bressie mumbles because he's embarrassed and a bit horny and a lot drunk.

"Yeah thanks man, I can see that," Eoghan says dryly, and to be honest, Bressie's gone right off him. "I mean why is he sending you pictures of himself in bed?"

"He's fully clothed," is what Bressie says defensively, and it's terrible. He knows it's terrible even before Eoghan's eyes go wide and stares at Bressie for a second before he starts scrolling through the rest of the photos.

"Fucking hell, Brez, what is this?" Eoghan asks, and he's not even teasing now, which makes it so much worse, Bressie thinks.

"It's nothing, he's just being an idiot," Bressie says somewhat calmly. He's drunk enough to almost believe it.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Eoghan answers, sliding the phone back over the bar towards him and when he puts his hand over it, Eoghan's hand covers his. "C'mon mate."

Bressie shrugs, his shoulders feeling bloody heavy. "I'm too old," he says finally, and he's not sure which one of them is more surprised because that wasn't what he'd meant to say at all. "I'm too old and Niall's a kid in short trousers, you know? He's a huge popstar. He travels the fucking world and pops back home now and again. He's _straight_. Fuck." He rubs at his eyes and prays for everything to go a bit blurry, but Eoghan's still looking at him, looking like he's _pitying_ Bressie, and well, apparently this is what his miserable life has come to. "He's straight and he keeps sending me pictures and I've wanked over them more times than I want to remember and that's about as much of a dirty old man as I'm prepared to feel about it all so just don't, Eoghan, yeah? Just fucking _don't_."

Eoghan pats his hand a few times, that awful sympathetic look still on his face and orders another round.

He also puts Bressie in a taxi at the end of the night and gives the taxi driver his address and some cash.

"Sleep it off, Brez," Eoghan tells him as he hangs inside the window. "You're not, you know. What you think you are. He's not a kid, not anymore."

"He is," Bressie mutters, closing his eyes and leaning back against the headrest. He thinks about Niall's hands, so much smaller than his own. The way he fits under Bressie's chin when they hug. "Compared to me, he is."

He doesn't hear anything else Eoghan says, blocking everything out as he wonders how, exactly, he got here. Mooning after a kid who looks up to him. A kid who can't walk down any street in any country without getting mobbed. A kid who likes _girls_ , for chrissakes.

Bressie makes it home, strips off for bed, dumps his clothes in the laundry basket and slides into blissfully cool sheets before passing out.

*

He gets through the next day with the help of ibuprofen, a constant supply of pints of water and a blissful day off. His training time is ridiculously slow, but he figures he's allowed one bad day, all things considered. He's even made it all day without looking at Niall's pictures, although he draws the line at deleting them, sensible as that might be.

Niall calls him when he's just about to fall asleep on the sofa, his hangover finally gone and Question Time playing in the background as Dimbleby gets shirty with one of the guests. He debates not answering until he pushes that thought away because he's not a dick, honestly.

"Niall," he says as cheerfully as he can manage, although his voice still sounds a bit rough from alcohol abuse. "How's South America?"

"Hot, mate," Niall laughs and wow, Bressie has to close his eyes and lie back down on the sofa. "How's London?"

"Pissing it down," Bressie answers, although he's not even sure that's right. He's not looked outside since he got back from his run, about six hours ago. "So how's it going then?"

He hears Niall clear his throat. "It's okay. Really crazy though. Haven't been able to leave any of the hotels because there's so many people outside, you know?"

God, he sounds exhausted. Bressie can't even begin to imagine what that's like. "Home soon, yeah Chief?"

"Yeah," Niall says, and it's almost a sigh but not quite. "God, I miss the fucking rain, Brez. I miss home and it's only been a few weeks."

He feels his throat close up. "Yeah, that's normal, mate. I swear. Not long now though."

"Spoke to Eoghan earlier," Niall says, and Bressie's heart just stops for a second. Oh god. Oh fucking fuck. "Don't think that helped with the homesickness though, to be honest."

"No, I don't imagine it did," Bressie says. He's suddenly too hot and his clothes feel scratchy against his skin. God, what if Eoghan told Niall about his stupid crush? What if Eoghan told Niall about catching him staring at Niall's selfies?

"I'm home in a few days then," Niall says, and Bressie does his absolute best not to react, staring at Dimbleby pointing at various members in the audience. There's a guy behind the woman asking her question wearing the most ridiculous paisley shirt Bressie's ever seen. It's pink and purple and green and he thinks he's getting another hangover from just looking at it. "We could go for a pint then, yeah?"

Oh god. "Yeah, course mate," Bressie croaks, and then feels fucking awful. Maybe he'll get over this, whatever it is, if he sees Niall. Niall will flirt with a few girls and remind Bressie that he's being a complete tit about all of this and he'll just get over this. Whatever this is. "Take care of yourself in the meantime though, yeah?"

"Always do," comes Niall's bright reply before he says goodbye and hangs up, leaving Bressie to stare up at the ceiling with a slight frown.

That was a pretty expensive phone call just to see if Bressie will go for a pint sometime. Then again, Niall is a stupidly wealthy popstar, no matter how easy it is to forget when Niall's just, well, _Niall_.

*

He's managed to distract himself with training and studio time, and Eoghan appears on his doorstep with two bottles of red wine and a curry.

"Don't go thinking it's a date though," Eoghan warns him, tongue in cheek as he heads for Bressie's kitchen. "You're not my type."

"You think you're mine?" Bressie shoots back.

"As far as I can tell, your type is strange little Irish fellas, so yeah, it's a possibility," Eoghan says over his shoulder as he unscrews the bottle top and pours two extremely generous glasses.

Apparently the look on Bressie's face is enough to stop Eoghan making jokes though, which is inherently terrifying in itself. But they make it through both bottles and most of a biryani before Eoghan nudges his knee against Bressie's as they sit side by side on the sofa, both of them too full to move and just staring blankly at the telly.

"He's back tomorrow," Eoghan says, like Bressie doesn't know exactly when Niall's due back, right down to the flight number and estimated time of arrival.

"Yeah," Bressie says shortly.

"You gonna talk to him about how you wanna shag him against every surface in this pokey little flat?" Eoghan prods, but his voice has gone soft so Bressie decides not to punch him.

"We're not gonna shag," Bressie all but growls at him. Fuck, but he's staring at the wall and imagining Niall's small body pressed up against it, covered by his own, much larger body. Fucking Eoghan. "Not happening."

"Think you underestimate your charm there, big man," Eoghan answers, causing Bressie to roll his eyes and shove Eoghan until he falls off the sofa with a laughing groan and a loud thump.

Bressie doesn't even feel guilty about it. He reckons he's holding onto enough guilt as it is.

*

He goes for a run purely for his own self-preservation, right around the time Niall's flight is due to land at Heathrow. He's already wasted half the day with a hangover, tidying his flat for no reason and calling his mum for a chat so she can remind him to eat, just in case he'd forgotten.

He switches his routine because he's got too much energy. He runs past where he usually turns to head back and keeps going, running until his mind goes blank; until his lungs feel like they're on fire and his body is dripping with sweat. He finally stops, bending down and resting his hands on his thighs as he drags in each painful breath.

His jog home is slower since his muscles are screaming in protest, but he feels better. He feels cleansed, like something's loosened inside of him and he can breathe properly again.

When he trudges up to his flat, he's not exactly surprised to find a certain famous popstar on his doorstep, looking small and tired and somehow still managing to smile. He's caught a bit of sun, Bressie thinks idly. His hair is too long, and he looks like he's lost all the weight he'd put on before he'd gone back on tour.

"Wow, hi," Niall says, running his gaze over Bressie's sweat-soaked body and making him feel horribly self-conscious as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "Still training hard then?"

"Something like that," Bressie says, moving past Niall to unlock the door and step inside. "I'd hug you hello but I'm pretty sure that I stink."

"Yeah, you definitely need a shower," Niall tells him, wrinkling his nose and giving him a gentle shove, his hands on Bressie's back as he pushes.

Bressie laughs, but it dies on his lips as soon as he's in his bedroom and leaning back against his closed door. Christ, he doesn't know if he wants to feed Niall and tuck him into bed and make sure he looks after himself, or pick him up and kiss him until his lips are slick and pink and begging Bressie to take him to bed. What he does know is that he shouldn't be thinking _either_ of those things.

He lets the hot water of the shower scald his skin until it's bright red, until his mind clears and he can deal with the fact that Niall only landed a few hours ago and it's possible that he came straight here to Bressie's flat from the plane. He's not sure what that means, or whether it means anything at all, but it feels like it might.

Pulling on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, Bressie runs his hand through his damp hair before he pads out into the kitchen where Niall's pulled out his takeaway menus and spread them across the kitchen table.

"Hungry?" Bressie asks, eyebrows raised as he grabs two beers from the fridge. He passes one to Niall before opening his and taking a long, quenching drink.

"Chinese," Niall murmurs, looking terribly excited about it. "Unless you've got to eat something healthy for your training, Head."

Bressie honestly considers telling Niall that he has to eat salad and tofu to mess with him, but he looks so sincerely worried that Bressie's going to steal his Chinese away from him that he can't do it. "No, order what you like, mate. I'm hungry enough to eat the whole menu."

Niall beams at him and Bressie has to turn away, swallowing another mouthful of beer. He hears Niall making the order, rolling his eyes when he realises Niall's ordering about 20 different dishes, and a hand drops onto his shoulder.

Turning, Bressie looks down at Niall, who's grinning up at him. "Hi."

Moving without much thought, his arms reach down to wrap around Niall, pulling him forward until they're pressed together, Niall's head tucked under his chin, his head turned so his face presses against Bressie's chest. His hands are flat against Bressie's back, and he feels so bloody _little_ in a way that Bressie's never really thought about before.

He pulls back almost self-consciously, and hustles Niall into the living room. "You look tired, mate," he tells him as they settle on the sofa, beers in hand. "Pushing yourself too hard?"

"Nah, that's what these breaks are for," Niall says around a yawn. He grins sheepishly as he turns to lie back against the armrest, facing Bressie. "So, did you miss me?"

Bressie manages not to blush, but it's a struggle. "Not with you sending me pictures of yourself every five minutes, you vain bastard," he says lightly. "Don't know how you fit all those concerts in around your busy selfie schedule."

Niall laughs, but it's soft and warm, not loud and cackling like Bressie's expecting. It makes his belly swoop and he's so grateful when the doorbell rings. He pays the delivery guy and takes the food, grabbing plates and forks on his way through the kitchen before dropping everything onto the table.

"That smells like fucking heaven," Niall says happily, digging into the cartons and heaping a fucking god-awful amount onto his plate. But he's shared enough meals with Niall to know that he'll clear his plate, and probably before Bressie finishes his own more modest portions.

Two hours later, Niall's half-asleep on the sofa and Bressie's debating whether to wake him up or let him sleep. When Niall lets out a gentle snore, Bressie nudges him gently.

"Hey, Chief, let's get you to bed," Bressie murmurs, keeping his voice low and soft. Niall's eyes half open and he blinks up at him, looking a bit confused and adorable. Bressie concentrates on helping Niall to his feet and heroically ignores Niall's arm slipping around his waist as Bressie guides him to the guest bedroom that doubles as a gym of sorts. When Niall sleepily wriggles out of his jeans, Bressie looks away because he's not a fucking saint, and only turns back when Niall's under the duvet, peering up at Bressie with that same soft expression.

"Just sleep," Bressie tells him, and his hand reaches up to brush a finger down his cheek because he's fucking weak and it's Niall. "I'll see you in the morning, mate."

"You not gonna give me a kiss g'night then?" Niall mumbles. Bressie's gaze shoots down to stare at him, but Niall's got his eyes closed and he looks almost asleep. He leans down, silently cursing himself even as he gently pushes Niall's hair back from his face and brushes his lips against Niall's warm skin.

"See you in the morning," Bressie whispers, before he steps away from Niall and heads for the door. He doesn't look back as he closes the door firmly behind him.

*

He wakes up to the smell of bacon and coffee, which is both confusing and wonderful. It also means Niall's still around, and Bressie takes a moment to let that sink in before he throws his covers off and swings his legs around to sit up. Rubbing his hands over his face, he feels two days of growth scraping against his palms, rough and abrasive. Which is when he realises Niall's singing. One of his songs.

With a groan he gets to his feet, feeling every single year of his life weighing heavily over him as he drags on a pair of joggers, settled low on his hips and heads towards the kitchen, scratching his shoulder as he comes to a stop and leans against the doorframe, almost filling the space, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Niall's got his back to Bressie, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers that emphasise his pale, lithe body that admittedly looks firmer and more toned than Bressie was expecting. His blonde hair is flat against his head and he's still humming _Show Me Love_ under his breath as he makes what looks like bacon sarnies. And he's made enough to feed a small army.

"Alright there then?" Bressie says, grinning as Niall spins around in surprise before he settles into his own answering grin. Bressie doesn't miss the way Niall's eyes travel down his body before he turns back to grab a plate piled high with his creations and puts it down on the table, where Bressie belatedly realises he's set the table.

"Come on then," Niall says, pulling out a chair and digging in. He's demolished half a sandwich before Bressie even takes a seat, and between them they polish everything off easily.

"Breakfast of champions," Bressie says after he swallows his last bite. He'll have to add a few miles to his run this morning but it's probably worth it since he's watched Niall put away almost half his body weight this morning which can't be a bad thing. "Thanks, Chief."

Niall leans back in his chair as Bressie gets to his feet, gathering up their plates to dump them in the sink and letting the tap run to fill the bowl with hot, soapy water. He flicks the tap off and turns around to find Niall right there, looking small and soft and still a bit sleepy. But he smiles up at Bressie and he feels his heart actually stutter in his chest.

When Niall reaches up, going on his tiptoes to lock his hands around Bressie's neck, he instinctively pulls Niall closer, his hands settling on Niall's narrow hips as he dips his head to make it easier for Niall to tug him down.

It still somehow comes as somewhat of a surprise when he feels Niall's lips pressing against his. Niall's lips unsurprisingly taste like bacon and ketchup but there's a hint of the boy underneath. His hands tighten helplessly around Niall's hips, his thumbs skimming over cotton and warm skin as Niall's lips move against his. They kiss until they're both breathless, until Niall's hands are buried in Bressie's hair and they're panting into each others' mouths.

Bressie's dick is hard as fuck and he's just about managed to stop himself rutting against Niall to get them both off, since Niall's just as hard and not so subtly grinding against Bressie's thigh. He almost wants to laugh because the way Niall kisses, enthusiastic and full-on, and the way he's shamelessly rubbing against Bressie is so Niall that it's almost endearing, if it wasn't also really fucking hot.

He pulls back reluctantly, letting his head rest against Niall's as they both try to catch their breath. "What - what was that?" he manages to ask, belatedly loosening his grip on Niall and wondering with a wince if he's accidentally marked Niall's skin, since he bruises so damn easily.

"Wanted to kiss you," Niall says, as if it's that simple. Bressie wishes it was. He really fucking wishes it was. "Eoghan told me."

Bressie's definitely going to kill Eoghan. "He has a big fucking mouth," he mumbles, pulling back to get some much needed space between them but Niall stubbornly keeps his hands locked around Bressie's neck, so he figures distance is relative.

"Well, I've fancied you forever, so I'm glad he has a big fucking mouth," Niall says. "Just didn't think that you'd ever, like, you know. Back."

Bressie has to look away from Niall's earnest, serious face for a second before he speaks. "Niall, you're young. Or I'm old. Or both, maybe. You're travelling the world and you're barely home. You should be out there meeting people. All kinds of people. Girls, guys, whoever you like."

When he glances back at Niall, there's a mutinous expression on his face. "I'm not asking you to marry me, Brez," he says, somewhat flatly, and Bressie lets his hands fall from Niall's hips, feeling ridiculously disappointed when Niall steps back until there's almost a foot of space between them. "Just a few snogs and hopefully getting your hand on my dick."

There's a shooting pain of pure want that spreads through his body at Niall's words. But he shakes his head because he's clearly got to be the sensible one here, and the two of them make absolutely no sense at all, even if his body is screaming otherwise.

"You're wrong," Niall says slowly, clearly disappointed. He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving Bressie to take a few deep breaths before he spins around and shoves his hands in the too-hot water, grabbing a plate and washing it methodically. He hears Niall getting dressed, and there's a long pause and his neck prickles a little before the front door opens and closes quietly, leaving his flat in total silence.

He drops the plate back into the water, strides into his bedroom and changes into his training gear and heads out to take his frustrations out on the streets on London.

*

For the next nine days, he's either running, in the gym or sleeping. He pushes himself every day until he's too tired to think, falling into bed exhausted for a dreamless sleep. It's a futile effort, since he still wakes up every morning in a sweat and painfully hard. And every morning, he ends up jerking off in the shower thinking about Niall and his mouth and crowding Niall against a wall, covering Niall's body with his own.

Sometimes he jerks off twice.

Niall hasn't texted him or dropped round since that morning though, not that Bressie's got any spare time with his half ironman triathlon looming on Sunday. But he misses hearing from him. Eoghan keeps texting him, asking whether he's shagging Niall yet or not so he knows Niall's probably not talking to him either.

On Wednesday night after he crawls back home from an exhausting training session, his last big one before the competition, he makes enough pasta for three grown men and sits down in front of the telly to eat. He flicks onto the music channels and ends up watching three One Direction videos in a row, skipping through the stations like a lovesick teenager. By the time he's watching Midnight Memories for the second time, he grabs his phone and mutes the telly for his own sanity.

**Sorry I can't make Croke Park, but you'll smash it mate. Can't believe how far you've come, so proud of you**

When there's no reply by the time he goes to bed, he figures he's really fucked everything up with Niall, who can't hold a grudge longer than the time it takes to pour a pint of Guinness.

It's probably for the best, all things considered, to put some space between them.

Which doesn't exactly explain why he's standing in Croke Park on Friday evening, having charmed his way backstage with Laura and Eoghan's help, and he's not sure he even has a genuine ticket, but Paul thankfully recognises him and lets him sneak onto the side of the stage during the show and he thinks he's only missed a few songs. He hears Niall's speech and watches him try not to cry, which is a heroic effort Bressie thinks because he knows he'd bawl like a baby if he got to play Croke fucking Park. But he watches Niall bask in the adoration of his fans, feeding off them as he races around stage and his bandmates fawn over him.

It's magical and he's mesmerised.

During their break, Niall heads off around the back and doesn't even see Bressie, which is fine by him because he thinks he has something in his eye, honestly, and then they're back, one outfit change later and they're off down the catwalk again.

The noise is deafening and he can't even imagine how Niall feels out there, but Bressie's bursting with pride and he's so, _so_ fucking glad that he changed his plans because there's nowhere else he'd rather be than right here, in their national stadium, watching Niall live out his dreams. He manages to not get spotted at all until Story of My Life when Liam turns and sees him. Bressie gives a half-hearted wave and vague nod while Liam stares at him for a second before he seems to remember where he is and races off. It takes him half a verse to get to Niall and whisper in his ear before Niall spins around and his gaze finds him immediately.

Bressie can feel the heat of that gaze from a couple hundred feet away.

He doesn't smile or wave, and it takes Niall a few more seconds before he turns back to the crowd. It seems like barely a second passes before they've sung their final note, the crowd absolutely going crazy and Niall's running up the stage, past Bressie without a look and spinning back around to wave goodbye. Then Harry tugs him down and they're gone.

Bressie's not really sure where to go when the lights come on and there's a rush of movement out in the stadium as people flock to the exits. He doesn't even know if Niall appreciates him turning up or whether he made a massive mistake in coming at all.

He's about to pull out his phone when there's some movement in front of him. There's people milling all around and suddenly Niall appears through them, parting the crowd and skidding to a stop in front of him with a euphoric look on his face.

"You came," he says breathlessly, and Bressie realises he's wearing different clothes, and his hair is damp. In the time he's been standing here feeling a bit lost, Niall's showered and changed and run to find him.

Christ.

This time when Niall steps forward, looking determined and fierce as he throws his arms up and around Bressie's neck, he's already leaning down, his hands landing on Niall's hips but sliding around to cup his arse and bring him closer. And when their lips meet, Bressie knows the choice he's making and what he's choosing. And wonders if he ever really had a choice at all.

Niall's hands slipping down his back and under his shirt distract him though, and he shivers as Niall smoothes his palms over Bressie's skin and he nips at Bressie's bottom lip. He wants to laugh but a groan slips out instead, and he wishes they were anywhere but backstage at Croke Park.

"Your hotel," he mumbles, trailing kisses across Niall's jaw. His skin is almost silky smooth, unlike his own scratchy stubble that'll probably leave a red mark on Niall's skin. He nuzzles against Niall's neck and feels Niall tremble slightly in his arms, making him smile.

"Yeah," Niall mutters, and he lifts his head up to press another fierce kiss against Bressie's mouth before he turns, his hand slipping into Bressie's much bigger one and tugging him unerringly through corridors and hallways until they're being pushed into a car with tinted windows and Bressie is exceedingly grateful since it means no one can see as he drags Niall onto his lap, his knees sliding down over Bressie's thighs until he's straddling him. Bressie cups Niall's face with a hand, his thumb stroking lazily over Niall's cheek as he stares up at him.

"Sure?" he asks quietly. Niall nods, his cheeks flushed and his eyes lazily flicking over Bressie's face, his hands resting on Bressie's shoulders as he suddenly grinds down, and fuck, he's hard. Bressie feels his own dick start to stir as he drags Niall down for another kiss.

He kisses Niall until Niall's hands are fisted in his hair, tugging as he gasps for breath with spit-slick pink lips, slightly bruised from Bressie's kisses. But he moves in for more and Bressie's hands fist around Niall's shirt, knowing he's going to look rumpled and thoroughly-kissed when they step out of the car, and more than that, knowing that he should care about how this will look to other people, but Niall's dick is pressed against his dick and he doesn't much care about anything else right now.

As it turns out, Niall's more intoxicating than anything he's ever experienced before and he just wants _more_.

"Niall," he murmurs as he pulls back to stare up at him. God, he's so fucking pretty. He wants to mess him the fuck up and god willing, he'll be doing that in just a few minutes if this car journey ever comes to an end. "Niall, now's the time to tell me if you don't want this to go where I think it's going."

"I'm planning for your dick to end up in my mouth or my arse," Niall says bluntly, and he only flushes a little and his voice only sounds a little husky. But Bressie groans all the same and leans his head back against the headrest, trying to breathe slowly and get some control over his ragged breathing.

"We're here," Niall says suddenly, and Bressie glances out of the window in surprise. They're being taken in through the back, through the kitchens or something and normally he'd laugh at how ridiculous Niall's life is but he's mostly grateful that no one's going to see them because Niall at least looks thoroughly kissed and he's not even trying to hide his smug grin, and Bressie thinks his own hair is probably a bit wild and there might be a slightly smug grin on his own face too.

They're guided through the hotel to the service elevator. They step inside with Niall's bodyguard and Niall slides his hand into Bressie's, squeezing tight.

"Both," Bressie says quietly. When Niall turns to him with a questioning look, Bressie allows himself to grin as wide as he wants to. "Your plan. For where this is going. Both."

It's fun to watch Niall's cheeks flame and feel him shift next to him, like his jeans have suddenly gotten uncomfortable. And tight. It's even more fun when the door closes behind them into Niall's hotel room and he can crowd Niall up against the wall, covering his body with his own and wrapping his arms around Niall, yanking him hard against his body the way he's wanted to for so, so long. To hear the strangled moan Niall makes as he tries to all but climb Bressie's body, but he grabs Niall's wrists because he's thought about this for so long that he can barely think about anything else. He pins Niall's hands against the wall above his head and he grins wolfishly at this beautiful boy, writhing against the wall as he tries to lean in for a kiss.

"Bressie, fucking kiss me," Niall demands, but he's laughing and puckering his lips and Bressie manages to smother a laugh before he leans in and kisses him hard. He kisses him as he keeps Niall's hands above his head, his other hand trailing down Niall's torso and making Niall tremble under his touch. His fingers dance across Niall's taut belly before he nips at Niall's lip and cups his dick, drawing out a loud moan from Niall.

"Yeah?" Bressie asks because he can't help it. He needs to know Niall's in this as much as he is.

"If you don't touch my dick in the next five seconds Brez I'm gonna punch ya," Niall slurs, his accent thicker with arousal.

Amused, Bressie kisses him again before he lets go of Niall's wrists and drop his hands to Niall's waist. He quickly undoes Niall's jeans, tugging them down his lean hips as drops to his knees. Niall's gasp follows as he tugs Niall's jeans all the way down and off and somehow Niall's shirt is off too as he curls his hand around Niall's dick. It's a nice dick, he thinks as he gives it a stroke, thick and pale and already leaking, which makes Bressie's mouth fucking water.

But he draws his gaze up, his eyes travelling over Niall's naked, toned body as he lowers his mouth around Niall's dick and swallows him down until he almost chokes because he fucking loves that feeling. From the way Niall's head falls back against the wall and he lets out a string of curses, he reckons Niall likes it just fine too.

It's been a while since he's done this, not for a few years at least, but it's familiar. The smell, the taste, the feel, it's different every time yet the same somehow. He pulls back, his tongue pressing against the underside of Niall's dick as his hands tighten around Niall's hips, keeping him right where he wants him.

He slides back down, until his throat constricts around Niall's dick and he hears Niall whimper, holding himself there until he can't breathe, pulling back and circling his tongue around the tip. God he tastes amazing and Bressie loves the way his jaw aches already from lack of practice. When Niall's fingers sink into his hair and tug, he lets out his own whine of approval and he sinks back down, his head bobbing faster as he feels Niall twitch in his mouth.

"Fuck Brez," he hears Niall mutter. "You have any idea how long I've wanted this? Never thought it'd happen, Jesus. Never thought I'd see you on your knees for me."

Bressie moans helplessly around Niall's dick, opening his eyes to stare up at Niall who's watching him with blown pupils and parted lips.

"Shit," Niall whimpers as his hips try to jerk forward, stilled by Bressie's firm grip on them. "Shit I'm gonna come, Brez."

Bressie closes his eyes and pulls back slightly just as Niall comes, feeling the bitter taste fill his mouth, swallowing until Niall's soft and small in his mouth. He moves back, nuzzling his face against Niall's soft dick for a second before he climbs to his feet. Niall leans heavily against him, panting against his chest and Bressie brushes his hand through Niall's hair, holding tightly onto him until he stops trembling and his breathing evens out.

"Okay?" Bressie asks quietly. He tips Niall's head back, and finds Niall looking up at him, soft in a way he's never seen Niall be before.

"S'lube in the bedside drawer. And some condoms," Niall says, reaching up for a kiss that Bressie gladly gives him, guiding him gently towards the bed as he nips and licks at Niall's lips. "Been waiting forever for this."

"No pressure then," Bressie murmurs with a smile as he strips off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans, kicking them off as he reaches for the drawer, quickly finding everything and dropping it onto the bed beside Niall, who's sprawled out against the white sheets, completely comfortable.

"Just get naked and fuck me, yeah?" Niall says, only sounding like he's half-joking.

Bressie huffs out another laugh as he drops his boxers and climbs in between Niall's legs, spreading them wider until he can fit comfortably, letting Niall feel his entire weight as he presses him down into the mattress.

Niall's legs lock around his and he feels Niall's warm breath against his neck. It makes his belly ache in a good way.

"On your back or on your hands and knees?" Bressie asks. God, he's not even sure if Niall's ever done this before.

Niall flushes bright red, which Bressie thinks is incredibly interesting and awfully cute. "On my back," he says quickly. "Can do the other way next time, yeah?"

And, well, that makes Bressie's dick jerk painfully. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Fuck, yeah we can."

Niall's face softens and his hand cups Bressie's jaw. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a second before he reaches blindly for the lube. When he finds it, he turns his head to press a kiss into Niall's palm before he shuffles down the bed, squirting the lube over his fingers until they're slick.

"You've done this before," Bressie says, more of a statement than a question. He reaches down and lets his finger press gently against Niall's hole, teasing and gentle.

"Yeah, once," Niall says breathlessly. His knees bend and he pushes down a little, inviting Bressie's touch. He pushes in, his other hand steady on Niall's thigh until he's knuckle deep. When he starts to move, he turns his head to brush a kiss against the inside of Niall's thigh, and he gets a shaky sigh in response. His finger slides in and out in a slow rhythm until he feels Niall loosen up around him enough to push in a second finger. He rewards Niall with a soft bite on the inside of his knee.

Niall starts to moan as he loosens up enough for Bressie to add a third finger, and Bressie has to rut carefully against the mattress because Niall's moans are dragging him closer to the edge, even without the amazing sight of Niall spread out so beautifully on white sheets, totally opened up for him and begging him in sweet little gasps to fuck him.

"Nearly there babe," he says, unable to resist as his fingers slide in and out easily to bend down and take Niall's almost-soft dick in his mouth again, sucking gently. It takes barely a minute for Niall to get hard again and Bressie pulls off, his fingers sliding out as he wipes them carefully against the sheets and reaches for the condom.

"Wait," Niall says, his hand closing around Bressie's. "Let me?"

Bressie takes a moment to steady himself before he nods, sitting back on his heels as Niall scrambles to sit up, taking the condom out of its wrapper before he slides it down Bressie's cock while Bressie tries not to come just from the feel of Niall's hands on him. Bressie slicks himself up before he gently presses Niall back down against the bed, pressing a desperate kiss to his lips before he guides himself in, slow at first as he watches Niall carefully. When he bottoms out, Niall relaxes and Bressie gives him a minute to adjust. Gives himself a minute to calm down because otherwise this is all going to be over in a matter of minutes and Christ he wants to take his time, feel Niall fall apart on his cock before he tumbles over with him.

"Ready?" he asks. Niall nods, reaching up to pull Bressie down and over him. He has to shift slightly before he can move, a hand on the mattress for support with his other hand on Niall's hip as he thrusts gently. Niall whimpers, his fingers digging into Bressie's back and he thrusts in again.

Niall's moans get louder and he shifts onto his elbow, moving his hand from Niall's hip to his dick and gives him a hard tug. Niall's eyes fly open and he stares at Bressie for a frozen second before Bressie strokes his dick again and that's all it takes to send Niall over the edge, coming into Bressie's hand and over his own belly as his back arches and he lets out a sharp cry.

"Fuck," Bressie mutters. It's beautiful. It's so fucking beautiful. He leans down to kiss Niall. It's messy and he thinks he mostly misses but he thrusts in again and again, harder each time as Niall urges him on. The little shit clenches just as he thrusts in again and Bressie sees fucking white as he comes, every muscle straining as his hips stutter, and then he collapses onto Niall, wincing as he feels Niall's come coat his own belly.

Not that he cares that much, he thinks tiredly. He's fucking exhausted and he's just had incredible sex and fuck, he's just shagged Niall. He's made Niall come twice and he's just come inside Niall and he's still _inside him_ and it's so fucking much. He presses a kiss against Niall's shoulder, closes his eyes and just _breathes_.

"C'mon," Niall murmurs eventually, giving Bressie a shove. He whines in disapproval, shaking his head. He doesn't want to fucking move. He never wants to move ever again. "Shower. You're fucking filthy."

" _You're_ filthy," Bressie mumbles childishly. God, he just really doesn't want to move.

But he does eventually, hoisting himself up and pulling out, disposing of the condom before he hauls Niall out of bed and over his shoulder, hearing Niall laugh as he slaps his arse on the way to the bathroom.

*

When he wakes up in the morning, it's still almost dark and he's curled around Niall, his arm flung over Niall's waist and their legs tangled together. He finds Niall's hand and laces their fingers together, feeling stupidly happy and only a tiny bit worried about what this is all going to mean.

"Stop thinkin'," Niall mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Bressie nips at Niall's shoulder, his teeth barely brushing Niall's skin before Niall turns around in his arms, only a hint of a glare in his sleep-soft expression. "Stop worrying," he says this time, sounding a bit more awake. "Last night was the best fucking night of my life, so stop trying to ruin it okay?"

Bressie's not sure if he's talking about playing Croke Park or sex, but he thinks maybe it's both. It only reminds him though that Niall's a huge popstar in the middle of his worldwide tour, and even when this one finishes, they've got their next one planned out and within a few months, another one will be finalised. He's got no time for a relationship or whatever this is or could be, Bressie knows.

He nudges his nose against Niall's. "I thought it was pretty fucking good too," he says softly. "But this thing. Us. Let's just keep it casual for now, yeah? You've got a busy fucking year ahead of you, Chief. Don't want you worrying about me back home or anything stupid like that."

Niall gives him a look that he can't read, but then he's surging forward to kiss him so he figures Niall agrees too.

*

Bressie can't stay, as much as he'd like to, since he does actually have to fly to Austria and do his half ironman. He lets Niall pin him down against the mattress and try to cajole him into staying, offering blowjobs and handjobs and other filthy suggestions that Bressie can't wait to explore later.

But he does flip Niall onto his back, kissing him until Niall's begging to be fucked again. And even though he's got less than two hours to grab his things and head to the airport to catch his flight, he turns Niall over, gets him onto his hands and knees and opens him up slowly, until Niall's face is buried in the pillows and he's whining loudly, pushing back against Bressie's hand as he slides three fingers into Niall's arse and leans down to bite his arse cheek. He pulls Niall back up onto his hands and lines himself up, pushing in without warning and hearing the low, helpless moan Niall makes that goes straight to his own dick. He holds Niall up with one hand as he pushes in hard, driven on by the sounds Niall's making, begging him to go faster, driven by the uncertainty of when, or if, they'll get to do this again. He fucks into him over and over again until Niall's crying out, his hand reaching down to tug on Niall's dick as he jerks him off, his grip firm and sure. When he feels Niall stutter, coming over Bressie's fist and onto the sheets, when he feels Niall's arms give out and he falls face-first into pillows, he thrusts into Niall once, twice, three more times before he comes with Niall's name on his lips.

He has the quickest, coldest shower he's ever had and still manages to be late for his taxi because he'd made the mistake of kissing Niall goodbye and wishing him luck for tonight. He's not sure how Niall had pinned him up against the hotel door, or whether he was just letting Niall do it because it was fucking adorable, but when he'd finally pulled himself away, he was ten minutes late and he prayed Dublin traffic would do him right, for once.

He makes his flight with seconds to spare, and still finds time to text Niall before the plane takes off. He debates sending kisses and decides on one, before he throws his phone down in disgust and shoves his headphones on, and tries not to look as deliriously happy as he feels inside. It's a pretty futile exercise, all in all.

*

Niall calls sometime in the middle of the night.

"Hey, did I wake you?" Niall asks, not sounding sorry at all.

"Yeah, but it's alright," Bressie says, eyes still closed, but he's smiling. Because Niall phoned. God he's such a sap. "How was it then?"

"Almost as good as last night," Niall says, and he can hear the excitement in his voice.

"So what was different to last night then Chief?" Bressie asks, because he's weak and pathetically wondering if you can miss someone after less than a day apart.

"You," Niall says simply, and it's that simplicity Bressie thinks that has his heart flipping over in his chest. "So how's Austria then?"

They chat about everything and nothing, from what Bressie had for dinner to Harry's terrible jokes onstage and everything in between. He can hear Niall's yawns but since he makes no move to hang up, Bressie stays on the line too.

After that, they speak all the time. Bressie phones him when he finishes the ironman, and hearing Niall congratulate him with so much pride in his voice makes him long to be fucking _home_ already with Niall in his bed. God, Niall in his bed. The thought distracts him so much that Niall has to say his name over and over again before he shakes his head and tries to focus on what Niall's saying.

"Got two days off after tonight," Niall says hopefully.

"I could fly into Manchester," Bressie says, because he's exhausted and he quite frankly has no intention of pretending that he doesn't want to see Niall, that he doesn't want to kiss him until he's pink and breathless, that he doesn't want to try all those things Niall's suggested and more. "Stay with you tomorrow night and get the train back to London."

"Yeah," Niall says quietly. "Yeah, you should do that."

Bressie grins as he rubs his face. "Okay then. Guess I'd better call the airline and switch my flight then. See you tomorrow, babe."

"Text me your flight details, I'll get a car to pick you up," Niall says before he hangs up, leaving Bressie shaking his head and wondering at the life of international popstars with too much money and pretty blue eyes.

*

After Edinburgh, Niall pretty much moves into Bressie's flat for a week. Bressie learns a lot about Niall in that week, including the very enlightening fact that Niall loves sucking his cock. He drops to his knees all the fucking time, or his hand slides over Bressie's lap when they're watching telly and Niall will just suck him off while he pretends to watch a rerun of Location, Location, Location. He also learns that Niall likes morning sex, and afternoon sex, and pretty much anytime sex. He's also a cuddler, both when they're on the sofa and in bed. He learns that Niall likes having his hair tugged and he's not adverse to the odd arse slap or pinch.

It's a lot, Bressie thinks. But every time he learns something new about Niall, he files it away and tugs him in for a kiss. Like when he comes home to find Niall in another t-shirt of his. They're always far too big on him, hanging off his shoulders loosely and the hem almost halfway down his thighs, but fuck if Bressie doesn't have a thing for Niall wearing his clothes, and more importantly, stripping his clothes off Niall.

Or when Niall joins him for a jog, and it's the most fun he's had while running probably ever. Not that Niall can run faster than him, in fact they go slow because of Niall's healing knee, but he goads Bressie into a few sprint races that Bressie lets Niall win because he looks so bloody happy, and he pretends to chase Niall through the park and lets Niall chase him, and when they get back to the flat, Niall joins him in the shower and soaps him down before they grind against each other, hands on each other's dicks until they come, panting and desperately filthy, Bressie's palm flat against the cool tiles as he holds Niall up and they catch their breath together.

Or when they cook, and the pasta burns because Niall's distracting him with some story Eoghan told him earlier at the pub and Bressie's so entranced by Niall telling the story that he's forgotten all about the pasta until the smoke alarm goes off, leaving Niall in a fit of giggles while Bressie scrubs at the pan before throwing it away in defeat. They end up having Thai takeaway and Bressie had fucked the giggles out of Niall right there on the sofa until they'd turned into moans and whimpers and pleas.

And in the mornings, when Bressie gets up early to go running, he always finds himself staring at Niall for a few minutes, trying to convince himself that he's not being creepy or weird for watching Niall sleep. He just looks so young and peaceful, and it's all the more striking because it's not until he's asleep like this that Bressie realises that maybe Niall hides away more than he's ever realised before, that the strains of his schedule might get to him more than any of them realise.

And if he comes home with two bacon sarnies and two coffees, waking Niall up with slow, drugging kisses and if he lets Niall drag him out for a round of golf instead of heading to the studio like he'd planned to, then that's his business and no one else's.

*

Niall leaves to head back on tour, and Bressie tries not to think about all the spaces Niall's left behind. About how he sleeps on the left side of the bed now instead of the middle, or how he keeps buying Oreo cookies every week even though he doesn't even eat them but Niall hoovers them down five at a time.

And he curses himself every time because it can't last. Of course it can't last, and Niall going back on tour is just a reminder of that fact. Niall isn't his. Niall isn't staying forever, no matter how much Bressie might want him to. And the sooner he remembers that, the better off they'll both be.

*

Niall's been gone five days, and Bressie's received ten selfies (he's jerked off to all of them) before Niall sends him a text asking for one in return.

**It's only fair, Brez! I miss your stupid face!!**

Bressie tries to refuse, but Niall's insistent.

**Send me a picture, you wanker. Wanna jerk off to your face.**

Bressie snorts. It's hardly the most romantic thing he's ever received, but he sure as hell understands since he'd been jerking off to Niall's picture of him in bed earlier this morning. And even though he feels stupid and ridiculous, he strips off his shirt since Niall wants to get himself off and Bressie happens to know he really likes Bressie's chest, and he snaps a few photos. He picks what he thinks is the least embarrassing one and shoots it across to Niall, regretting it almost instantly.

He waits, but Niall doesn't text back. Bressie stands up, his palms sweating as he heads to the kitchen to make tea. The kettle boils too quickly and he splashes his face with water from the kitchen sink, but his phone still doesn't vibrate or ring or anything, staying stubbornly silent.

After twenty three minutes, when he's finished his unwanted tea and paced up and down a bit, he picks up his phone and sends Niall a message.

**Was it okay then?**

His phone lights up almost immediately with Niall's face.

"Hey," he says when he answers, trying to mask his relief. "Don't tell me it was that bad."

"No," Niall says, but he sounds a bit odd. "Hey Brez, you on your own, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bressie says, sitting back down and letting his legs stretch out in front of him. "Why?"

"And you're home?" Niall persists.

"Yeah, I'm at home and I'm alone," Bressie says.

"I'm gonna Skype you, okay?" Niall says before the line goes dead and, well.

He loads up his laptop and a call comes through immediately. Niall appears on his screen, and is it possible that he's missed Niall this much when he's been gone less than a week?

"Hey," Niall says. His hair is flat again, which might be Bressie's favourite look of Niall's, when he looks soft and relaxed and not like Niall of One Direction but just, like, Niall. His Niall. "It wasn't bad."

"No?" Bressie says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "You look tired."

Niall moves his hand around, which Bressie assumes is him brushing the comment away because of course he's tired. And of course he can't do anything about it. "You look fucking great," Niall tells him, which is about the time Bressie realises that Niall's shirtless. "Get your dick out."

Bressie's hands are already on his joggers, shoving them down and then his boxers before he can stop and think this through. He kicks them off as he watches Niall reangle his camera until he realises Niall's totally naked, hard, and stroking himself lazily.

"Fuck," he mutters, leaning forward to tilt his own laptop until he thinks he's got the right angle. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Niall murmurs, licking his lips as he stares down at where Bressie's got a hand wrapped around himself too. "God, Brez, I fucking miss your dick."

Bressie laughs helplessly. "You're such a fucking romantic, Niall."

Niall grins at him and blows him a kiss. "I might be able to pop back for a day after Milan, in a week or so."

"Yeah?" Bressie tries not to smile. He fails miserably. "You think you could swing by then?"

"Maybe," Niall says, but his hand is moving faster on his dick and Bressie can't look away, mesmerised. "What you gonna tempt me with?"

Bressie's breath catches and he thumbs his slit because he's a fucking masochist. "Dinner?"

"Hmm, interesting but I can get dinner anywhere," Niall says. His eyes are half closed and he looks like he's close. Bressie thinks he can probably get him there a bit faster.

"Wanna fuck you up against the wall," he says huskily, because it's all he seems to think about these days. He hears Niall's low whimper and he tightens his grip on himself, stroking a bit harder as he watches Niall's head fall back slightly, his lips parted. "Want you to wrap those legs of yours around my waist while I fuck you against the wall in the hallway because when you get back, I probably won't be able to wait to get you into bed. Christ, Niall. I wake up hard thinking about you. I go to bed hard thinking about you."

"Me too," Niall says a little desperately. God, he's not going to last, not with Niall looking like that. "I think about you all the fucking time. Jesus, Brez. Fuck!"

Bressie watches as come spills over Niall's fist and that's all it takes for Bressie to join him, his own hand sticky and messy.

He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths to steady himself before he disappears into the kitchen to clean up before he pulls his boxers and joggers back up to sit back in front of the computer. Niall looks flushed but clean too, and he's smiling and looking a bit more relaxed. Bressie grins back at him.

"So I'm gonna go home after the European leg finishes," Niall says, and he looks terribly excited. "Gonna see me dad and Theo."

"Gonna fit in a trip to see Greg too then?" Bressie asks wryly. He knows the brothers have a few personal issues to work through, but Niall's enthusiasm for his nephew is ridiculously infectious.

"Yeah yeah," Niall says, laughing softly. "Thought you could come with me. Go see a few old faces."

Bressie knows his face has frozen and he carefully tries to shift his expression into something more neutral, but the way Niall's looking at him makes him think it's probably too late. Shit. "Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea, Niall."

"Why not?" Niall asks, his smile gone. He's fiddling with the tags on his joggers and Bressie just wants to rewind this entire conversation.

"Not sure I'm going to be able to look Bobby in the face, since I've been shagging his son and all," Bressie says, aiming for humorous but pretty sure he misses completely by the incredulous look on Niall's face. "Same for Greg. Think he'd punch me for fucking his little brother."

There's a long, drawn out silence. Bressie waits for Niall to talk, to shout at him or argue or something, but he doesn't. He just stares at him, looking more and more stoic until he shrugs. "Alright."

"Niall-" Bressie starts but Niall flinches onscreen.

"Look, I've gotta go," Niall says. "Got popstar things to do. I'll see you later Head, yeah?"

He's gone before Bressie can stop him, the screen going blank.

He thinks he might have just fucked everything right up. Rubbing his face wearily, he stands up, his legs a little unsteady, and heads for the fridge, pulling out a beer and downing it where he stands.

*

Niall doesn't come to London between Milan and wherever he's off to next. He hears from Eoghan that Niall's gone home, and Bressie spends the night getting slowly wasted until he passes out in his bed after telling himself that it's for the best. That Niall was never a choice for forever.

He goes to the studio and writes three stupid, soppy love songs about missing someone before he throws them away and curses the moment he decided to get on a plane to Croke Park instead of Austria. Or the night he went out with Eoghan and let him see his phone, maybe. Or the night he was drunk and told Niall that he missed him. He curses them all and goes for a run and tries not to text Niall and tell him he misses him even more now. He misses Niall's laugh and his face, he misses Niall's stories and the way Niall fits in his life. He misses Niall in his bed and he misses Niall's kisses.

He just fucking misses him.

Bressie finds out, again from Eoghan, when Niall's due home from tour, even though Niall circled the date on his kitchen calendar and put it in his phone calendar. He talks himself out of it three times before he grabs his things and stalks out of his flat, walking with long, languid strides. He finds himself outside Niall's flat, beanie pulled down low as he waits.

He waits for fucking hours. He waits until his knees feel like they've seized up and his bones ache, moving around with the jitters. He waits until he hears slow footsteps approaching and Niall's head appears, a snapback covering his hair and Christ, a familiar red hoodie on even though it's fucking hot outside.

"Hey," he says, and watches as Niall's head snaps up. He gets a smile, although it's not as bright as he'd like, and he reaches for Niall's hand, pulling him in for a hug that Niall goes easily into. "Missed you."

Niall doesn't say anything, but he pulls back and unlocks his front door. He throws his bags inside and reaches for Bressie's hand. Bressie finds himself being pulled inside, the door closing behind them as Niall sinks to his knees, making quick work of tugging Bressie's jeans down and freeing his dick. When Niall's mouth closes around him, his eyes shut and he leans back, his hand pulling Niall's tilted snapback off so he can tangle his fingers in Niall's messy hair and tug the way Niall likes. Christ, the way _he_ likes. Niall's mouth is clever and determined and Bressie feels himself coming embarrassingly fast, his legs almost giving out as he reaches for Niall and pulls him up, kissing him fiercely like he's trying to tell Niall something. Like he's willing Niall to understand. Like he's trying to forget how he's the one turning up at Niall's door, when he knows it'd be smarter to leave Niall the hell alone and to just get over whatever this is before either of them fall too hard or get too involved.

Before his heart gets broken.

He follows Niall into the bedroom, taking a moment to memorise Niall's own space with his photos and memorabilia scattered around and two guitars propped against the wall.

And when he slides into Niall much later, Niall's face buried into his pillow as Bressie presses soft kisses against his spine and wishes Niall was on his back so he could watch, they both come almost silently and nothing feels right. Nothing feels the way it should. Even when Bressie's cleaned them both up and Niall's curled into his side, asleep almost immediately, there's something missing and Bressie spends hours staring up at the ceiling, wondering how he could have fucked up something this amazing so irrevocably.

*

He wakes up alone. His hand reaches out almost instinctively, but the other side of the bed is cool and empty.

It's all fucking _wrong_. He should be waking up to Niall's hand on his dick or Niall fast asleep so Bressie can kiss him awake. God, it's all so fucking _wrong_.

He climbs out of bed, debating whether to put his jeans on or not and eventually compromises by pulling his boxers on and padding across the room to look for Niall. He finds him in the kitchen, hair damp from the shower and fully dressed. Bressie frowns, and leans against the doorframe with his arms folded, feeling horribly defensive.

"Hi," he says, feeling unsure and uncomfortable and really, really hating it. He's never felt uncomfortable with Niall in the four years he's known him. "Going out?"

Niall turns, and he smiles, putting his mug down on the counter and moving to grab his wallet and phone. "Sorry, I've got a promo thing to go to."

"On your first day back?" Bressie asks. He doesn't want to suggest that Niall's lying, or trying to avoid him, but that's exactly what it sounds like to him. "Seems a bit cruel."

Niall just shrugs as he leans in and presses an almost absent kiss against Bressie's cheek. It's not cold, exactly, but it's hardly the kind of goodbyes he's used to from Niall. "I'll see you later, yeah? Just pull the door to when you leave. Sorry."

And then he's gone, leaving Bressie staring after him, alone and miserable and wondering how to fix this. Or whether Niall even wants to fix this.

He heads back to the bedroom, gathering his things quickly and slipping out of Niall's flat, already halfway through an emergency text to Eoghan asking for help.

*

"He thinks you're trying to break up with him," Eoghan says flatly when Bressie slides into the booth opposite him. They're in a McDonalds, which Bressie objects to on every possible level but Eoghan likes their coffee, unbelievably. He eyes Bressie suspiciously. "Are you? Because if you break our Niall's heart, Laura will make you pay. I won't, because I'm a coward and you're a big fucking bastard, but Laura's got fucking ways, man."

And well, she does, but that's not the point, Bressie thinks. "How can we break up if we're not together?" he asks, because he's absolutely certain they never had that conversation.

"Don't be a fucking dick, Brez," Eoghan says sharply, making Bressie's head snap up to look at him. He's not joking, Bressie realises. Fuck. "Niall's been gone for you for years, and it's only taken you four years to figure it out because you're dumb, mate. He's not interested in other people, never really has been. Not since, well, you. God knows why. You're awful, obviously."

"Yeah, I think I am," Bressie mumbles. He feels a bit sick and he reaches for Eoghan's coffee with a shaky hand, taking a sip and putting it back down with a wince. "He's young, Eoghan. He's so bloody young. He could be with anyone. He could be with a million someones."

"And yet he wants you for some crazy reason, always has done," Eoghan says. He kicks Bressie under the table before he slides out of the booth, grabbing his coffee as he looks down at Bressie. "Don't break his heart, Brez, because he will probably forgive you, but the rest of us won't. And don't ever steal my coffee again, you giant baby. Go talk to Niall and suck his dick in apology or something. Just don't make him cry. He's fucking ugly when he cries."

Bressie watches him leave, his body aching at the thought of hurting Niall. He rubs at his eyes and stands up, fishing out his phone and sending Niall a text.

**Can you come round to mine later? I think we need to talk.**

He heads home, miserable and with no idea how to fix any of this.

*

The evening drags on, but Niall doesn't appear. He's picked up his phone five times to call Niall and make sure he's got the message, but he doesn't because of course Niall's got the message. And maybe it's time that Bressie got the message that Niall's sending him, loud and clear.

So when there's a quiet knock at the door at almost midnight, Bressie jumps up and smoothes his hands over his face before he moves towards the door. Niall's standing there, looking tired and small and like he'd rather be anywhere other than on his doorstep.

"You came," Bressie says dumbly. Niall just looks at him, and he steps back to let Niall in. He doesn't take a seat, but shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to look back at Bressie.

"You asked me to," Niall points out reasonably. "So what's up?"

"I miss you," Bressie blurts out. He's not expecting Niall to duck his head and look away, and it makes his heart physically ache.

"I'm right here," Niall says softly. He glances back up at Bressie. "You're the one pushing me away."

"I'm not," Bressie says, and he deserves the disbelieving look Niall shoots him. "Okay, maybe I was. But Christ, Niall, you're so young. You should be out having fun and shagging different boys and girls every night. Not staying in and Skyping me or Christ, you're not even out. We couldn't even go out and hold hands or kiss in public."

"You want to hold my hand?" Niall asks, taking a step towards him. "I can come out, Brez. It'll hardly be the end of the fucking world if people know I like guys and girls."

Bressie's not so sure his team will be quite so cool and casual about it, but that's not really the point.

"And I've been in love with you for four fucking years," Niall says simply. "Don't think it's going away any time soon."

Bressie can't deal with knowing that right now. He's not sure he ever will be. "I want to be with you," Bressie murmurs, because he does _._ Christ, he fucking  _does_. "I just don't know if I'm ready to believe that this is really what you want. That I'm what you want over everything else you could have."

"Well I do, and you are," Niall says, and he moves closer until he can reach up in that familiar move. Bressie settles his hands on Niall's waist, and god it feels right again. "And I can wait until you are ready, you wanker, so long as you don't shove me away. M'not going anywhere. Not really."

Bressie can't resist dipping his head to give Niall a quick, fierce kiss. "Alright," he says when he pulls back. "Yeah."

"Now who's the romantic one?" Niall teases. His laugh turns into a squawk when Bressie bends down and lifts Niall, who quickly cottons on and wraps his legs around Bressie's waist. "Jesus, Brez."

"Been thinking about this for fucking weeks," Bressie says as he turns and heads for the bedroom. "Missed you."

"Missed you too," Niall murmurs. "You dick."

Bressie grins as he kicks the door closed behind them. God, he's already half-in love with this boy. "Shut up and get naked."

They might actually be perfect for each other.

*

"You ready yet?" Niall asks, appearing in the doorway to the bedroom. He's basically moved in, since he hasn't been back to his flat since June except to pick up clothes or check he hasn't been burgled. His clothes are scattered all over Bressie's flat, much to Bressie's annoyance, but they manage somehow.

"Yeah yeah," Bressie mutters, just doing the last button on his shirt. He doesn't even glance in the mirror, just grabs his wallet, phone and keys and hustles Niall out of the door. "We'll be fashionably late."

Niall manages to hail a taxi when they hit the street and grabs hold of Bressie's hand discreetly when he's certain the taxi driver can't see them. "It'll be alright," he says for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

"It's fine," Bressie says, but Niall knows he's nervous. He keeps quiet though and watches as they pass through familiar London streets until they pull up outside a private members bar. Niall lets go of Bressie's hand and they climb out, Bressie paying the driver before he drives away, leaving them standing outside the club.

"Ready?" Niall asks.

"Course I am," Bressie says, and he lets Niall go first seeing as it's his bandmate's birthday party. When they step inside, they're immediately swarmed. Bressie slips his hand into Niall's, clutching tightly and Niall moves closer, smiling up at him. "Should we go find the birthday boy first?"

"Yeah," Niall says, looking around. He spots Liam by the bar, Louis and Zayn with him and Sophia nearby, looking a little confused by whatever Harry's telling her. "Over there. C'mon."

They make their way through the crowd, and Bressie doesn't let go of his hand once, not even when they come to a stop next to Liam.

"Mate!" Liam says first, a brilliant smile on his face. He hugs Niall first before he turns to Bressie and reaches up for a hug that Bressie returns a bit awkwardly. He thinks he hears Liam whisper something like _thanks for coming with him_ but he's not sure. His hand finds Niall's again and Christ, he is nervous. It's the first time they've done this - gone out in public together. Or semi-public, he supposes, since it's a private party. And he's scared because this is a proper step forward for them, but Niall keeps smiling up at him like he's hung the fucking moon and all his bandmates keep smiling at Bressie like he's done something good, and maybe it can work, he thinks desperately as he takes the pint Niall hands him and slides his arm around Niall's waist until he's tucked up against his side. And when Niall presses a lingering kiss against his jaw and nuzzles happily into his shoulder, his fingers bite into Niall's side a little and he drops a kiss against Niall's forehead.

"Happy?" he murmurs, low enough for just Niall's ears.

"Delirious," Niall says solemnly. "Still terrified?"

"Nope," Bressie says honestly. To prove it, he ducks down and kisses Niall. He kisses him until Niall's breathless and shoving at his chest, laughing when they both pull back. "I think maybe when we get home, we should talk about you coming out with a boyfriend."

Niall's eyes suddenly look so, so bright. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Bressie says, absolutely certain now. He's not sure why he ever really doubted it, not when Niall's grinning up at him and whispering something about fucking against a wall later. He really hopes Niall means when they get home because he doesn't fancy getting caught doing it here. But maybe they can sneak off for a quick blowjob later. "We should definitely talk about that."

"I love you," Niall murmurs. "I really fucking love you."

"I love you too," Bressie murmurs back. "And I'm in, babe. I'm all fucking in."


End file.
